# Fire And Ice

Tori Carrington

Bad-girl criminal defense attorney Jena McCade has finally found her bad-boy sexual equal. Professional hockey player Tommy "Wild Man" Brodie is everything she's ever wanted in a man. He's gorgeous, he's incredibly talented…and he's temporary! Still, when Tommy shows up on her doorstep after being injured, Jena can't resist offering him some very physical therapy….Tommy wants out of the rat race–almost as badly as he wants Jena! Since their one-night stand, she's been on his mind and in his dreams. And now he finally has the sexy D.A. right where he wants her–in his bed, exciting him, delighting him. The problem? Jena considers their relationship a fling…nothing more. But even Tommy knows that possession is nine-tenths of the law. And once he's stolen Jena's heart, she's not getting it back….

## “You took your own sweet time getting here…”

Jena heard Tommy’s voice just as she rounded the corner. Before she knew what was happening, he’d hauled her into his arms and pressed her against the cool wall in the deserted hallway. She shivered as he eyed her mouth in a predatory way.

“I wanted to make sure no one followed me,” Jena said, surprised at the shallowness of her breathing, the unbearable craving deep in her belly. He hadn’t even touched her yet and she was a heartbeat away from climaxing.

Trembling with anticipation, Jena watched as Tommy slid his finger under one of her dress straps and tugged it down her bare arm until the fabric pulled tight against her breasts. When it scraped against her hypersensitive nipples, she let out a small cry.

“Shhh,” Tommy said, tipping her head forward and kissing her deeply. “We wouldn’t want anyone to hear you and come to investigate.”

Jena gazed into his handsome face. “You’re not suggesting…we’re not going to…”

Tommy licked her bottom lip, then pulled it into his mouth. “Oh, yes, Jena. We very definitely are….”


Dear Reader,

Jena McCade is a woman who knows what she wants and takes it. Wouldn’t we all like to say that about ourselves? Have you ever wondered why so many of us can’t? Perhaps it’s because we’re afraid of finding ourselves smack-dab in the middle of a situation that may be too hot to handle. That’s what happens to our heroine. Because Tommy Brodie should come with a warning label—Caution: Live Wire.

In Fire and Ice, provocative criminal defense attorney Jena McCade has faced her share of opponents in the courtroom, but sexy ex-jock Tommy “Wild Man” Brodie is her toughest opponent yet in the personal arena. When a scorching one-night stand leaves Tommy thinking he can take up permanent residence in her life, Jena uses every weapon in her arsenal to scare him off. Only, Tommy’s made of stronger stuff than that. And when he utilizes a few of his own sexual weapons…well, Jena never stands a chance.

We hope you enjoy Jena and Tommy’s sizzling story. We’d love to hear what you think. Write to us at P.O. Box 12271, Toledo, OH 43612, or visit us on the Web at www.toricarrington.com. And don’t miss Marie’s story, Going Too Far, available in February 2003.

Here’s wishing you happy (and hot!) reading,

Lori & Tony Karayianni

aka Tori Carrington

## Fire And Ice. Tori Carrington


www.millsandboon.co.uk

This one’s for List Mistress Extraordinaire Barb Hicks and the whole crew at ToriCarringtonFriends@yahoogroups.com. Thank you, thank you and thank you again for your unwavering support, friendship and for the great water balloon fights!

Our heartfelt gratitude, as well, to our editor Brenda Chin. She knows why.

## Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

## 1

THE FRICTION OF SKIN against skin sliding one way then the other. Chest tight, nipples bunched into tight points, sending shivers cascading over her body. Stomach trembling, limbs languid yet restless. The sense of moving toward something terrifying and freeing all at once gathered deep in her belly, making her want to pull back and rush toward that place at the same time. Her wet tongue darted out, flicking hungrily over her bottom lip as her breathing grew shallow, air more difficult to come by.

Air whooshed, but not from Jena McCade’s tingling lips. Rather she blinked to find that she wasn’t in the king-size hotel bed she had spent the night in three months ago with hockey player Tommy “Wild Man” Brodie. Rather she was in her office at Lomax, Ferris, McCade and Bertelli, Attorneys-at-Law on a gray Monday morning in late November. And Mona Lyndell, the secretary they all shared, had just dropped an overstuffed manila folder on top of Jena’s desk.

Jena’s cheeks burned as she took a deep, calming breath. She managed a smile at the fifty-something secretary. “Talk about your daydreams,” she whispered.

A frown marred Mona’s clean brow as she smoothed back her salt-and-pepper hair that was ceaselessly pulled into a bun. The style reminded Jena of something an old schoolmarm would wear. Only she couldn’t remember any of her teachers looking like Mona. Instead it looked like something she might have seen in an old Little House on the Prairie episode.

“I was talking about depositions,” the secretary said.

Mona had been talking? Boy, she was in worse shape than she’d thought. Not only hadn’t she heard Mona come in but apparently she’d missed an entire conversation.

“Depositions,” Jena said aloud, trying to jerk her mind away from the heat of her thighs generated by her rubbing them together during her daydream. “Yes.” She pulled the file in front of her. “Good. Good. The lead witness deposition in the Glendale case.”

“Just came in by messenger ten minutes ago.”

“Very good.”

Mona lingered a moment longer.

“What?” Jena said, sounding irritatingly snippy even to herself, which was definitely not normal. When she was snippy she usually intended to be.

Mona’s brows lifted above her large-framed wire glasses. “Did I say anything?”

“No, but I know that look.”

“I was just going to ask if everything was okay. Lately, you seem to be, well…I guess distracted is the word I’m looking for.”

Oh, she was distracted all right. But she wasn’t about to share the reason for that unfortunate state with Mona. Not that she thought the secretary couldn’t keep a secret. Rather she was having a hard time coming to terms with her borderline adolescent musings. She did, not fantasized about doing it.

Jena eyed the now even larger pile of papers regarding the Patsy Glendale murder case taking up the better half of her desk. “Have you given any thought to what I said yesterday?”

Mona’s spine snapped slightly straighter—if that were possible. “You mean about my hair color?”

Jena knew her best friend and partner would absolutely kill her for saying something like this to the older woman. Dulcy Ferris would tell her she was being callous and controlling. The thing of it was Jena thought she was being helpful.

So, okay, the suggestion that Mona might want to reconsider her decision to age naturally and instead look into a good colorist—had even given the secretary the name of her own hairdresser—had come on the heels of an incident just like the one they were experiencing now. Jena had been daydreaming about Tommy, Mona had come in on some urgent business matter or another, and Jena had made the comment on her hair.

And now she was following up on it.

“It was just a thought, Mona.” She sighed, briefly propping her head on her hand, then shoving her fingers through the fine, jet-black strands of her shoulder-length hair. “I can only imagine what you think of the comment.”

“Is that an apology?”

Jena smiled. “No. It’s a statement of fact.”

“I see.”

Jena noted the glimmer of amusement in the other woman’s eyes, although there was no way that Mona could know that much of Jena’s state was due to one singular night of passion with a man she hadn’t seen since…well, that night.

Her. Jena. A woman unafraid of her own sexuality who changed men as often as she changed her bed sheets, preoccupied with a man who had so clearly been a one-night stand. In fact, he not only wasn’t in her life…he wasn’t even in the same city.

Which hockey team had he played on? Oh, yes. The L.A. Aces. Fitting, since Tommy was the highest scoring card in her black book. Not only did he live up to all the things she’d said about hockey players having, um, big sticks and being smooth, he’d surpassed them. And then some.

Mona cleared her throat. “I’ll be at my desk if you need anything.”

Jena waved her hand. “Thanks, Mona.”

The instant the secretary exited the office, Jena wanted to groan aloud.

She made an attempt at continuing the notes she was making on a secondary case but the words refused to make sense. A latent case of dyslexia? Hardly.

Okay, so the sex with Tommy had been good. Great. Mind-blowingly fantastic. But it wasn’t like her to revisit one-night stands, even in her daydreams. And, for cripes’ sake, the night had been in September and now it was late November. She glanced out her office-wide window. She supposed part of the reason for her overheated, sappy condition was that things had been quiet on the dating front as of late.

Well, actually, things had been nonexistent ever since…

Ever since three months ago.

She nearly choked at the revelation. No, that wasn’t possible. She’d dated since then, hadn’t she? She swiveled her chair to the bureau behind her desk and took her purse out of a drawer, rifling through it for her Day-Timer. Surely she’d gone out since then? Had some sort of midnight encounter?

Yes, yes. There was that John Pollero she’d met at a gallery opening.

She flipped through the pages of her personal calendar, but aside from the notations of her monthly menstrual cycle, white paper stared back at her.

But she was sure…

There was the notation. She’d gone out to dinner with John a week before Dulcy’s bachelorette party and Jena’s night with Tommy.

She pulled a face, refusing to admit it.

So she’d grown lax in keeping her Day-Timer up to date. She slapped it back into her bag then the bureau. That was all. She’d never gone three months without some sort of interaction with the opposite sex. She adored men and loved sex. Especially great sex with adorable men. She’d merely forgotten to note the dates, that’s all. After all, as Dulcy and Marie constantly told her, others found it impossible to keep up with her. It was understandable that she was having trouble keeping up with herself.

“Knock, knock,” Dulcy Ferris said from her open doorway.

Jena blinked at her incredibly blond, incredibly beautiful friend, then frowned. Something she seemed to be doing a lot of lately whenever she ran into one of her two best friends.

“Who’s there?” she said wryly.

Dulcy laughed quietly then stepped into the room. “Well, obviously no one worth mentioning given the expression on your face.”

“Never mind me. It’s this Glendale murder case, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?”

“How do you mean?”

Dulcy sat down in one of the two high-back leather chairs in front of Jena’s desk. Chairs she’d bought when she was on the track to partnership at Scott, Dickey and Jolson, one of Albuquerque’s premier law offices. The long hours, the cutthroat competition, the high-profile cases, the drive to succeed seemed to have all happened long ago, although barely nine months had passed since she and Dulcy and Marie had resigned from their respective jobs as attorneys and signed on with Bartholomew Lomax, fulfilling a lifelong dream of running their own firm. With Lomax’s help and weight in the legal community, they did so without having to build from the ground up. Barry came with a long list of established and well-paying clients and a reputation that would have taken the three women years to shape.

Dulcy and Barry went way back, but Jena was still a bit fuzzy on the full extent of their relationship. No, there was nothing sexual between the sixty-something Lomax and her thirty-year-old friend, but the two shared a close connection Jena couldn’t figure out.

“And here I thought I was the one having trouble concentrating,” Dulcy said, tugging Jena from her reverie.

“Hmm?” She watched as Dulcy smoothed her hand over her flat stomach, reminding her that her friend was nearly three months pregnant and had good reason to be distracted, what with that American Indian stud of a husband of hers waiting for her at home. Of course, a dusty old horse ranch a good three hours outside of town wasn’t Jena’s idea of a good time, but she had the feeling Dulcy’s husband Quinn Landis could make anyplace seem like a sexual playground built for two.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve had a chance to talk,” Dulcy said, “what with my commuting to the ranch every Wednesday night and returning Sunday.” She caught herself rubbing her stomach and smiled. She put her hand on the armrest. “So who’s the man of the hour?”

Jena was still staring at her friend’s stomach.

“Hmm?”

“You know, who’s the hottie you’re dating now?”

Now that was the question of the hour, wasn’t it?

“Okay. Let me try to narrow the parameters of my question a bit. Last night, who did you go to the McClellan reception with?”

Jena shrugged, attempting nonchalance although she was a little irked by the reminder. “No one.”

“No one as in no one worth mentioning?”

“No one as in…well, no one.”

“You didn’t meet anyone there?”

“Nope.”

“You didn’t meet anyone worth pursuing?”

“Not even worth a second glance.”

Dulcy looked skeptical. “Okay, what’s going on? I haven’t heard you brag about any sexual conquests for at least a couple of weeks.” She made a face. “Actually, I think it’s longer than that. Odd.”

Definitely odd, Jena admitted inwardly. In fact, she found it terrifyingly strange that she couldn’t remember one single male face from the McClellan reception. She, the woman who usually surveyed a room the instant she entered it, sizing up every male in the place then putting them into selection order. Choice number one. Choice number two.

Jena felt Dulcy’s very penetrating gaze on her. “What?” she said in much the same way as she had to Mona.

Dulcy shook her head, wearing the same amused expression Mona had. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that, well, your behavior lately has been a little outside the norm, that’s all.”

Jena vaguely wished that Dulcy had reacted the same way Mona had, namely with a smile as she left her office.

“Maybe I just need to get laid.”

Dulcy’s bark of laughter made Jena smile. “God, that is such a man thing to say.”

“Not something I could see Quinn saying.”

Dulcy twisted her lips and tucked her pretty blond hair behind her ear. “No. But we weren’t talking about my man. We were discussing yours. You know, the type you tend to go out with.”

“The type just looking to get laid.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jena squinted at her friend. “What’s going on? It’s not like you to fish for intimate details. You’re usually telling me when to stop—which, I might add, is the instant I get started.”

Dulcy shrugged her shoulders and leaned back in the chair. “Yes, well, I was just noticing that you hadn’t even tried to share anything recently.”

“And you missed it?”

“No, I was just wondering what brought about the change.”

Jena found her gaze drawn to the window and the nearby Sandia Mountains. “I wish I knew.”

“Well, at least Caramel is keeping you company.”

Jena gave an exasperated sigh. “No, Caramel is making my life a living hell,” she said of the four-month-old puppy Dulcy had given to her a month ago. A blond boxer, it had to be one of the ugliest dogs she’d ever laid eyes on. Then again, all dogs were ugly to her. They…drooled all over you. And Caramel also seemed to have a gastrointestinal problem that no food the vet recommended solved.

It had taken her awhile to figure out that one. She’d suffered through countless noxious clouds before she’d finally determined the smell wasn’t coming from a backed-up sink or a neighbor’s garbage but was instead from the little dog that constantly panted at her feet.

“Can’t you, please, please take her back to the ranch?” Dulcy was already shaking her head. “I just got her back from obedience school and she still doesn’t have a clue that ‘no’ doesn’t mean squatting on my bed.”

“Maybe because ‘no’ is the only word you’re saying to her.”

Jena made a face as the phone at her elbow chirped. “Ha ha. You, a comedian. Who would have guessed?”

“Lunch?” Dulcy asked, getting up.

Jena reached for the receiver. “Love to but I can’t. Meeting with a client,” she lied.

She answered the phone and began talking to the secretary of opposing counsel in a third case, not lifting her gaze again until Dulcy was on her way out the door. The instant her friend was gone, she put the caller on hold, then flopped back in her chair. She’d never lied to either Dulcy or Marie before. And to get out of a lunch that the firm would probably pick up…well, that was another first.

Yes, something was definitely wrong with her. And she wasn’t all that sure she wanted to find out what.

No, she was positive she didn’t. And she knew the one, surefire way to put it out of her mind. Continue on with business as usual—not only at work, but in her personal life.

Yes. That was it.

She punched the button to bring the caller back. “So, Iris, what can I do you for?”

“THAT DOES IT. I NEED A wife.” Jena stared into her empty refrigerator later that night, making a face at the container of half-eaten strawberry yogurt, the bottle of orange juice, and an unappealing container of Chinese takeout food. At her feet, Caramel looked from the refrigerator, to her, then back again, her tongue forever lolling out of her mouth. Jena asked her to move her tongue so she could close the refrigerator door.

“Hmm. I don’t suppose you would know how one goes about getting a wife?”

Caramel tilted her head, either trying to understand what she was saying or else questioning her sanity. It had been a month since Dulcy had dropped the little fleabag off with detailed instructions on how to care for her—too bad it hadn’t been an operating manual—and the number to a nearby vet.

Jena stared at the smelly canine. Okay, so she was cute. And she did make the apartment seem less…empty somehow. Not that she’d thought it empty to begin with. She only wished Dulcy had given her a later model that was already properly trained. Between arranging for a neighbor to walk the boxer, and rearranging her own familiar routine to accommodate the animal, she thought that having the pet came very close to having a child. She depended on Jena for everything every moment of the day. And that entire concept had scared the hell out of her.

But now that they’d both settled into a routine of sorts, it actually wasn’t so bad. If Caramel would stop mauling Jena’s favorite XOXO shoes, would pick a food she liked and didn’t cause her to stink up the joint, life would be perfect.

Well, almost perfect. There was still the man matter. And the little problem of what she was going to eat tonight.

She went through her cupboards one by one. Empty cracker box. Dusty cans of lentil soup she couldn’t remember buying. A jar of peanut butter that was useless without jelly, even if she had the bread to spread it on. And her large collection of art deco plates was completely useless without anything edible to put on them except dog food. Dog food, she had.

It was just after 7:00 p.m., dark as Hades outside, with absolutely nothing on television. And Jena was about to go crazy trying not to think about the realizations she’d come to with Mona and Dulcy’s help earlier in the day.

Imagine, her without a man for three months.

She stilled, her hand in the process of closing one of the cupboards, and wondered why then she wasn’t out on the prowl even now.

Pizza. So what if she’d had it twice so far this week? A nice, thick Sicilian from Mario’s would do the trick right about now. And—who knew?—maybe the delivery boy would make her stop thinking about the sad state of her sex life.

Within moments she had her pizza ordered, poured herself a glass of ever-present wine, fed Caramel a treat, then stepped into her large living room decorated in various shades of black, gray, red and white. There wasn’t a single mid-western or Indian piece in the two-bedroom condo. Well, aside from the foot-high iron Kokopelli on the side table next to the lamp. But that had been a gift from Marie and she was required to display it, so that didn’t count. Her tastes tended toward the more modern, citified look. She put her wineglass on the gray swirled marble coffee table, then picked up the remote control, flipping through the channels idly. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Caramel nosing in a flowerpot in the corner. The mutt had turned the plant over no fewer than ten times in four weeks. And, it seemed, obedience school had merely heightened the dog’s interest in the forbidden plant.

“No!” Jena said, shaking her finger at the dog.

Caramel looked at her, her snout covered with dirt.

The doorbell echoed through the apartment.

Jena frowned at the dog, then glanced toward the door. Strange. The pizza place had never been this quick before. Sure, they were only five minutes away, but she didn’t think even that amount of time had passed.

She tossed the remote to the couch, shooed Caramel away from the plant, then headed for the door.

But standing on the other side wasn’t some post-adolescent teen with bad skin and braces, holding a pizza. Instead there in all his sexy glory stood the focus of her daydreams as of late: Tommy “Wild Man” Brodie.

Jena smiled so wide her face hurt. “How did you know you were just what I was looking to eat?”

ONLY MOMENTS BEFORE, Tommy’s recovering knee had been throbbing, the pain made more acute by the thin chill of Albuquerque, his mood dark and grouchy. He’d been wondering what he’d been thinking, flying from L.A. on a whim, tired of sitting around his apartment by himself, sick of his own company, and not up to another round of smothering from his mother, albeit via the phone from Minnesota.

But as he stood looking at the woman he’d been thinking about nonstop for the past three months, his mood lightened, he forgot about his knee, and certain body parts that had been dormant since that one incredible night with Jena McCade sparked to life.

Hell, but she looked good. Damn good. Her shoulder-length black hair was slightly tousled as if she’d been running her fingers through it, her purple short, short nightgown shimmered in the light as she moved, and her violet eyes first looked large as hockey pucks, then squinted at him as she smiled that provocative smile he remembered so well.

“Get in here,” her lush mouth said as she grabbed his arm and yanked him inside.

And in Tommy went, the door slamming closed behind him, his duffel bag dropping to the ground as Jena practically launched herself into his arms. He automatically balanced his weight on his good knee as she wound her arms around his neck, then used them to pull herself up and straddle his hips, locking her bare feet behind his back.

Pain shot up Tommy’s right knee, but he purposely ignored everything but the flames of craving licking through his bloodstream, filling him with a need for the woman even now launching a ravenous assault on his mouth.

Absently, he noticed the yapping of a dog. But he was too far gone to look around for it. Instead he groaned and curved his hands up Jena’s legs then her bottom to support her. He wasn’t surprised to find that she wore nothing under the slinky number. Her skin was hot under his fingers as he dipped his tongue into her mouth, his eyes watching her under half-closed lids.

She was even prettier than he remembered. Her angular features might have looked sharp on another woman, but they fit Jena to a T. She was as unpredictable as she was beautiful, and was the only woman up to this point in his life who had been able to match him stroke for stroke, lick for lick. In fact, in the twelve straight hours they’d spent together, she’d nearly undone him. Which was saying a lot considering his eight years on the professional hockey circuit spent sampling the willing fans and strangers alike offered up at every turn.

Jena finally paused for breath, resting her forehead against his as she laughed huskily.

Tommy slid his hands toward her slick flesh, stopping mere millimeters short. “Now that’s what I call a welcome.”

“I aim to please.”

“I know.”

She glanced over his shoulder at his duffel. “How long you in town for?”

He followed her gaze to find a blond boxer sniffing around the perimeter of the bag. “A couple of days.”

Her provocative smile sent shivers down his spine. “That should do.”

He chuckled as she unwound her legs from his hips and began to slide down. Her foot hit his knee brace.

“Here, let me help,” he said, easily grasping her hips and putting her down on the floor.

“What’s that?” she asked, feeling his brace through the loose denim of his jeans.

He shrugged, following the ends of her silky dark hair with a fingertip. “Let’s just say I’m in need of some primo T.L.C.”

She twisted her lips as she made a production out of looking him up and down. “I don’t know how tender or loving it’s going to be, but if it’s a workout you’re looking for…”

“That’ll do.”

“Good.”

He grinned.

She took his hand and began leading him back, presumably to her bedroom. Halfway there, she halted. “Wait a minute.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Well, you’re going to have to, unless you want a devil on four legs drooping on your face while you sleep.”

“Who said anything about sleeping.”

“Oh, a man after my own heart.”

Tommy sniffed. “What’s that smell?”

“Don’t ask.”

He watched as Jena comically chased the puppy around the living room then finally nabbed her next to a large potted plant that teetered ominously. He’d never have guessed that Jena was a dog person. Then again, it appeared the role was a new one. He watched her lead the puppy to the kitchen as if the pup were the boss instead of her. She held up one finger to Tommy, then disappeared into the other room. The rustling of paper, the murmur of Jena speaking to the dog, then she was again in front of him, the kitchen door firmly shut.

She slid her tongue over her lips. “Now, where were we?” She smiled. “Ah, yes.”

She took his hand again and picked up where she’d left off, namely en route to her bedroom.

He eyed her firm backside as she swayed her hips in front of him. Oh, yeah. Exactly what the doctor ordered. Not his doctor, but the one lurking in the corner of his mind. The truth was, he’d missed this spitfire. Some would argue that he didn’t even know her. He would tell them that he knew her better than he had any other woman in his life outside his mother and four older sisters.

But, of course, no one would argue anything with him, simply because no one knew about Jena McCade or the night they’d shared together. No one knew where he was now, either. They had the number to his cell phone. That was enough. And even that he’d turned off as the taxi had pulled up to the apartment building he’d found via a simple check of the phone book. He’d spent the past seven weeks going to physical therapy sessions and various sports doctors and he’d had enough of all of it. He didn’t want to talk about his career and where it went from there, especially midseason and it was looking like he wouldn’t make it back until next season, if then. This morning when he’d woken to the sound of his sports agent calling to remind him of his physical therapy session, all he could think of was getting out of L.A. And Jena was the first person who popped to mind. The person who had been on his mind constantly since before his injury during the game against the Detroit Red Wings seven weeks ago when he’d taken a stick to the skates and done the equivalent of an acrobatic twist a full fifteen feet in the air before landing in an inhuman position on the hard ice. Initially the dozen or so doctors the team had called in had wondered if he’d ever be able to walk on his shattered knee again, even after surgery. Their opinions reinforced the uncertain prognosis he’d given himself. Now…

Well, he didn’t want to think about now in connection to his knee and what his own medical background told him might or might not happen. Not when Jena had entered the darkness of her bedroom and was tugging off her nightie, tousling her sexy hair all the more.

Oh, no, he didn’t want to think of any of that. All he wanted to do was touch and be touched.

Jena tucked her fingers into the waist of his jeans and tugged him toward her.

And, oh boy, had he ever come to the right place to do that.

The injury he would survive. But as Jena kissed him again, he briefly wondered if he’d survive her…

## 2

HOT AND SALTY AND one-hundred-percent male. That’s what Tommy’s skin tasted like against Jena’s tongue. As the early morning sunlight slanted through the vertical blinds cutting slashes of light across her black lacquer bed, she slid a little closer to the man sleeping next to her, allowing for a fuller taste of the skin covering his broad shoulder.

Tommy made a sound deep in his throat, making her smile. She felt so thoroughly…sexed. Every inch of her sang and ached and longed for even more of the man who had taken her again and again and again through the night—with only one brief pizza break. The scent of his sex, their sex, mingled together, tightening the ball of desire accumulating in her belly yet again and pebbling her nipples where they brushed against the crisp hair of his arm.

She propped herself up on one elbow and gazed down at the man who had occupied so much of her thoughts over the past ninety days…and who now blissfully occupied her bed. Everything about Tommy “Wild Man” Brodie was…manly to the nth degree. Even in sleep, his features were strong and broad and handsome, his skin tight and tanned despite his spending so many hours on the ice. An almost blond lock of hair, lighter than the brown of the rest of his hair, teased a thick dark brow. She reached up and brushed it back only to watch as it shifted back over his brow again. She sighed softly, wondering what he’d looked like as a boy. Had that shock of hair always been stubborn, no matter how often his mother tried to spit-comb it back?

Her gaze drifted down to his full, well-defined lips. Oh, what that decadent mouth was capable of. Just when she was determined to keep some secrets to herself, he’d fasten those lips around the core of her and give a little tug that made her open like a brand-new book eager to be read. His jaw was set even in sleep, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

Then there was that body…

Jena had dated many athletes in the past. She loved the solid feel of a man who looked after himself. The washboard abs. The hard muscles. At around six-foot three, Tommy’s build was as solid and mouth-wateringly hard as they came. Each and every muscle was defined and honed and ready to touch. She lightly rasped the side of her hand down over a finely developed pec, over a dark nipple, then down the ripples of his abdomen and his waist to where the black top sheet was draped across his narrow hips. Then she slid her fingers under the soft material, seeking and instantly finding the long, thick ridge of his soft arousal underneath. She smiled as that softness transformed into a throbbing, steel-hard erection.

A low sound rumbled in Tommy’s chest. “You didn’t tell me you were such a pro at greetings.”

Jena blinked up at him and smiled naughtily. “How do you mean?”

“Well, there was last night when I arrived. I don’t think a man in the world could have asked for a, um, warmer welcome.” His chocolate-brown eyes reflected amusement and heat as his right hand slipped down to cover her fingers, squeezing them against his flesh. “And if this isn’t the best ‘good morning’ I’ve ever gotten, then it’s a close second.”

“I’ll settle for best,” she murmured, giving a squeeze of her own making.

She watched his throat work around a thick swallow. “Hmm.”

She released him and folded back the sheet so she could get up.

“Whoa. Just where do you think you’re going?”

She smiled over her bare shoulder. “To get ready for work.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then his eyes narrowed. “We’re going to have to work on your follow-up.”

She laughed quietly and started to lift herself from the bed. He wrapped a hand around her wrist and hauled her back to him. She gasped. He grinned and waggled his brows at her.

“Surely you have five minutes.”

“Not even two.”

“Good, because one’s all I need.”

“Spoken like a true man.” She laughed, wriggling against him, the crisp hair of his chest teasing her sensitive nipples. “Yes, well, I happen to need more.”

“Think so, huh?”

“Know so.”

His hands disappeared for a brief moment as he sheathed himself with one of the condoms he’d tossed to the bedside table the night before.

“Tommy…”

“Shh.”

He rolled to his side then positioned her so that her bottom fit against him, snaking a hand around her hip and down to the V of her thighs. She gasped as he lightly pinched the flesh there then parted her to his attentions. In one smooth stroke he filled her from behind, pressing on her pulsing flesh from the front. Amazing even herself, Jena reached climax right then and there.

She fought to catch her breath even as he slowly rocked into her again.

“Told you,” he whispered into her ear.

“Smart-ass.”

He curved his fingers over her bottom. “Sweet ass.”

She began to wriggle away.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To shower.”

“I still have fifty-five seconds.”

Jena swallowed hard, the sensation of his thick flesh filling hers, the evidence of her own desire lubricating his strokes, heightening the chaos beginning to roll in her belly all over again.

“Oh, God,” she murmured between clenched teeth.

“Oh, Tommy,” he said in her ear.

Jena halted his fingers from where they tunneled in her curls then gave his hips a shove with her bottom until he was lying prone against the mattress. She followed, staying in the same position so that she straddled his hips with her back to him. Supporting herself with her hands between his legs, she moved up, then down, the length of his shaft, wishing she could see his expression, but getting immense satisfaction from the raspy sound of his breathing.

Up and down she moved, slowly, then more quickly, with each stroke stoking the flames licking through her body. Tommy grasped her hips, not halting her movements, rather enhancing them, his thumbs moving toward her bottom then parting her further.

His low groan sounded like he’d dredged it up from his chest. The sound wound around her, quickening her breath and her movements until skin slapped against skin, moans mingled with soft cries. Jena’s muscles suddenly contracted so violently she froze. Tommy kept up the pace with his hands, pulling her down, then up, then down again, drawing out her crisis until he stiffened, thrusting deep inside her, joining her in the red cloud of sensation that had descended over her.

They stayed like that for long moments, neither of them in a hurry to emerge from the tranquil aftermath. Then Tommy slowly repositioned her until she lay flat against him, her back against his front, his arousal still filling her.

“I think you should call in sick,” he murmured, absently stroking her breasts.

Jena nodded. “I think I should, too.”

FOR TWO STRAIGHT DAYS Jena tried to escape the apartment. And for two straight days Tommy found inventive ways to stop her.

He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his jean-clad legs at the ankle, listening to the sound of the shower in the other room even as he stared at where Caramel had taken up residence at his feet. Did he dare try for a third day? He could climb into the shower with her as he had done yesterday, work her up into a lather in more ways than one…

He downed the rest of his orange juice then rinsed the glass in the sink. No. Jena was a shrewd one. She might get caught off guard once, but never twice by the same situation.

No, he’d have to come up with something else.

He caught himself grinning. Oh, yeah. Coming to Jena McCade’s had been one of the smarter decisions he’d made in a while. Back in L.A. right now he’d be staring out at the Pacific outside his window, watching joggers with perfectly good legs eat up the beach and wondering just how in hell he’d gotten where he was. Yes, he knew. The problem was he’d begun to suspect his injury wasn’t the only motivation behind the thought. Instead he’d begun to look at his life in a different light. Without the day-to-day busyness that went with being a hockey player, the workouts, the practices, the scrimmages, the games both on and off the road…well, he’d come to the conclusion that he had too much time on his hands.

Time Jena knew all too well what to do with. With Jena, he didn’t have to think about whether or not he wanted to sit restlessly on the bench as the rest of his team played. Or worry that his knee might never feel the same again. He just…was.

And, oh, what a “was” it was, too.

Unfortunately it looked like that “was”…well, was coming to an end. Life was intruding with Jena going off to work. And, he reluctantly admitted, maybe it was time he let some of his own life back in. He’d known this brief interlude was meant to be brief. Yet he didn’t want it to end just yet, whether Jena went to work or not. After all, she had to come home at some point, right? And when she did…

Caramel pulled him out of his reverie by making a sound at his feet. He considered the fur ball. The two of them had come to a truce early on. He didn’t mess with her; she didn’t mess with him. He could, however, do without the smell that seemed to accompany her presence.

He fished his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and reviewed his voice mail. Five messages from his agent. Two from his physical therapist’s office. One from his mother. He chose his agent first.

“Jesus H. Christ, man, where have you been? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you forever. It’s like you dropped off the edge of the Earth, Brodie.”

Tommy rubbed his brow. Maybe calling Kostas Volanis back hadn’t been the greatest idea. His time could be better spent coming up with ways to get Jena back into bed.

He envisioned her smooth, clean skin under the spray of the shower and his mouth watered.

“Tom?”

“I’m here.”

“And where exactly is there?”

Tommy grinned. The question might appear innocent to others, but others didn’t know Kostas the way he did. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yeah, me and twelve other people. Hell, guy, you picked a helluva time to up and take off, you know? You’ve got the team owner wanting a status report on your rehab. Only the team doc said you didn’t make your appointment yesterday. Then there is the sports equipment contract. You know they start shooting the commercials next month, don’t you? That is, if you don’t land on the permanently injured list. Did you take off back to Minnesota? You did, didn’t you?” He sighed. “You’re at least keeping off the knee, aren’t you? Doing the exercises the therapist prescribed for you?”

“I’m taking care of it.” Tom caught himself absently rubbing the knee in question and grimaced. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t been looking after it as diligently as he should have, and given his own background in medicine, the sin was doubly inexcusable. He heard the hair dryer click on in the other room, dimming his chances of getting Jena to stay home again today. Okay, so maybe even he could do with a brief break from their bedroom activities. Bum knee aside, he swore muscles hurt that he hadn’t known he had, fortifying his accredited knowledge that sex was one of the most strenuous physical workouts known to man.

“Look, Kostas, I’ve got to run.”

“Figuratively, right? You mean that figuratively. The doc said no running until—”

Tom chuckled. “Figuratively.”

“So I call your parents if I need anything, right?”

Well, that explained the message from his mother. Likely mother hen Kostas had called Helen Brodie and made his disappearing act sound like a major event, which he supposed for all intents and purposes it was. He’d never taken off like this before without letting anyone know where he was. And given everything that had happened over the past couple of months, it was only natural that his agent and others would be concerned about him.

He just wished they’d stop.

“No, call my cell.”

“So you’re not in Minnesota then?”

“Talk to you later, Kostas.”

“Wait, Tom—”

Tom clicked the phone shut then tucked it back into his pocket. He’d wait until later in the morning to call back the doctor’s office and his mother.

The hair dryer switched off.

He grinned. Ah, Jena.

He hadn’t quite known what to expect when he’d shown up three days before, but what he’d gotten had blown even that out of the water. He’d somehow forgotten how utterly hot she was. And he wasn’t talking just in the looks department. Between the sheets, up against the wall, in the shower, Jena was thick, molten lava, metamorphosing to fit whatever role she had in mind.

Personally, he liked the wildcat the best. When Jena took charge, ordering him around, telling him to touch her just so, move like this, thrust like that, he was like a man gone insane. He hadn’t let his injury hinder him in the least. Only problem was his knee was letting him know that now.

He opened the refrigerator door and stared at the slim pickings. Yesterday afternoon while she was napping he’d hit a nearby supermarket to stock up on the basics. Protein and complex carbs and plenty of them had been the order of the day. Plucking up the egg substitute carton and a package of turkey bacon, he turned toward the stove and started breakfast.

He didn’t so much see Jena come into the kitchen as smell her. He breathed in the scent of her spicy perfume and said without looking, “Good morning.”

“Bah humbug,” she said, though her tone was lighter than the words implied. “What, no coffee?”

“I don’t drink it,” he said. He turned, taking in the neat, sexy lines of her short skirt and business jacket. “Neither have you for the past two days.” He reached around where she was filling the coffeemaker with grounds and water. “Try some OJ.”

“That, too.” She switched on the maker then took the carton from him. Without breaking stride, she opened the top and drank straight from the carton.

Tommy lifted his brows and chuckled. “You’re kidding me, right?”

She shrugged and put the carton back in the fridge. “Why dirty a glass?” She smiled at him. “See. I got my vitamin C and saved on the water bill. Environmentally friendly, me.”

Tommy gently grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. He wiped a drop of juice from the corner of her mouth. “Sloppy you.”

She made a face and he kissed her.

“Hmm, citrus.”

“Hmm, I’m late.”

He chuckled and brushed his fingers through her silky hair, watching as the raven-black strands swayed back into place around her enchanting face. “What are the chances of talking you into staying home again today?”

Jena pretended to consider the question, then said, “Oh, I don’t know. Between slim and none, maybe?”

He lowered his hands to her collarbone, pressing a thumb gently against her pulse point. He was rewarded with a small leap of her heartbeat. “Need I remind you that’s what you said yesterday?” He placed a kiss to her temple then softly blew into the perfect shell of her ear. “And the day before that?”

He heard the click of her swallow. “Yes, well, I didn’t have anything pressing on tap. Today…today, I have to go to the county jail to meet with a client.”

“Hmm. Sounds ominous.”

“Not if I get her out.”

How was a guy supposed to compete with that?

As if of their own accord, his hands slid down her elegant back to her pert tush then brought her up against his growing arousal.

Behind her the coffeemaker stopped make spitting sounds. “Um, my joe’s ready.”

“Your joe isn’t the only thing ready.”

Her husky laugh heightened his desire along with the feel of her pressing against him. “Do you ever stop?”

“Do you want me to?”

She looked at him intently and he stared back. Her tongue ran the length of her lower lip. “Um, no.”

But she did wriggle free from his grasp, then rifled through the cabinets and the dishwasher for an enormous travel cup. She filled the plastic to the rim with the coffee, then snapped on the lid. “Will you be here when I get back?” she asked, her back to him.

He noted the tension in her shoulders. He hadn’t thought about it, really. He’d assumed he’d probably stay at her place, but hadn’t considered her not being in it at the time. In fact, he hadn’t given much thought one way or another regarding his trip to Albuquerque time wise, except that he’d eventually leave again. He’d merely hopped on a plane and was there an hour and a half later.

“Depends.”

She turned toward him. “On what?”

“On whether or not you want me to be.”

A shadow passed through her violet eyes. He grinned. Ah, a woman who liked to wield her power in bed but didn’t want to call the shots outside of it.

That was okay with him.

She cleared her throat. “I don’t know what bothers me more. The thought of leaving you alone in my place, or your not being here when I get back.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

She tilted her head slightly. “You know, you never did say why you were in town. Is there, um, a game or something?”

“Or something.”

Her gaze drifted to his knee. “There isn’t, is there?”

“Are you asking me whether or not I came here to see you?”

She considered the question for a long moment. “Yes, I am.”

“Then yes, I did.”

Her expression of surprise was the last thing he expected.

“When do you leave?”

“Depends.”

She twisted her lips, but didn’t ask the question she had the last time he said the word. “I’ve got to go. A girl will be stopping by every two hours to take Caramel out for a walk. She has her own key, but you may want to let her know you’re here or she’s liable to call 911.”

“Whoa,” he said, catching her around the waist. “At least have some breakfast.”

“I don’t do breakfast.”

“Most important meal of the day, you know.”

She smiled. “No, I didn’t.”

Tom kissed her. Hard. Not releasing her until the question she hadn’t asked vanished from her eyes and her body melded to his.

“You better get going,” he said. “Someone’s freedom hangs in the balance.”

“Umm, freedom.” Realization seeped back into her sexy eyes. “Oh, God, I am so late.”

She started to pass him. He reached out and swatted her soundly on the bottom. She gasped then laughed, half turning as she made her way toward the door, Caramel nipping at her ankles. “I, um, guess I’ll see you later then.”

“Later.”

She practically ran out the door, stopping before she closed it to grab her coat from a rack in the foyer. She shot him one last smile then disappeared, this time closing the door quickly to stop Caramel from getting out after her.

Tommy stood staring at the empty air for long moments, then shook his head. An enigma. Pure and simple.

Caramel’s nails clicked on the floor as she gave up on Jena and the door and instead plopped down to consider Tom.

“Well, fleabag, looks like it’s a table for two for breakfast.”

## 3

JENA SLID HER CASE FILE into her briefcase and snapped the flap closed. In four short hours she’d accomplished more at work than she had in the past four weeks. She leaned back in her office chair and stretched her hands behind her neck, noting how good she felt. No, good was far too tame a word. Fantastic. Terrific. Well sexed. And even hungry for more of what Tommy “Wild Man” Brodie had to give.

She smiled and absently reached for the receiver. Would he answer if she called? She always left the volume up on her answering machine to screen out telemarketers. She could always ask him to pick up.

“How are you feeling?”

“Hmm?” Jena looked up to find her partner and one of her two best friends, Marie Bertelli, standing in the doorway.

“Feeling,” Marie repeated, leaning against the jamb. “As in, how are you?”

“Fine, I’m fine.” Why wouldn’t she be?

Well, maybe because she’d called in sick the past two days, that’s why.

She snapped upright, kicking herself for having forgotten that important little detail.

Marie had been the only one not in that morning to feed the cock-and-bull story about having come down with some sort of bug. Oh, she had come down with a bug all right, and his name was Tommy.

“Fine now, I mean,” Jena clarified, taking her hand from the phone and squelching the desire to hear Tommy’s deep, rumbling voice.

“Good.” Marie tucked her red, curly hair behind her right ear, apparently buying the lie hook, line and sinker. And why wouldn’t she?

Sometimes her friend could be so naive. Cute, a hell of an attorney, but incredibly naive. She supposed that’s what happened when you were the youngest of a large family with three older brothers and old-fashioned Italian beliefs. The concept of deception between friends had yet to even register with her. Aside from Marie’s two-year stint in the L.A. district attorney’s office, she had lived at home all her life.

Jena prided herself on not envying anyone—except when it came to Marie. As much as her friend moaned and complained about her overprotective family, she never once noticed the way Jena sometimes sighed wistfully, wishing she’d had such a restrictive, loving upbringing. Well, she supposed she had known a bit of that. Until she irreversibly lost both her parents in one fell swoop of fate when she was ten.

“Jena?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? I mean, maybe you should take a half day.”

Jena smiled at her friend’s clueless comment and refused to think about how good the suggestion sounded. “I wish I could.” Well, at least that much was true. She did wish she were at her apartment with Tommy exploring the rest of the Kama Sutra positions from the book she kept on her bedside table. “But I have to head out to the detention center this morning to visit Patsy Glendale.”

“Ah. The make-you-or-break-you case.”

Jena made a face. “No, no, no. It’s the make-me case.” She set her briefcase upright and got to her feet. “I’m going to get her off.”

Marie gave an exaggerated shudder. “Please tell me you believe it was self-defense.”

“Of course it was.”

Marie shrugged. “It’s just the way you said it. You know, ‘Get her off.’ Made it sound like it didn’t matter one way or the other to you.”

“In all honesty, it doesn’t. Everyone is entitled to fair representation, Marie.” She shrugged into her coat. “What would you have us do? Walk Patsy straight to the electric chair for accidentally killing her husband in self-defense?”

“Lethal injection room in New Mexico. And not if it wasn’t premeditated.”

“But if it was…”

“You said it wasn’t.”

“And you’re not catching my point.” Jena came to stand in front of her younger friend. If the memory of her own parents surfaced a little bit more every time she worked on the Glendale case, that was only natural, wasn’t it? And if that same memory made her want to change the system, there was nothing wrong with that either. “Was there a reason why you stopped by? You know, other than to give me a lesson on morality?”

“Oh! Yes. I almost forgot.” She tucked the hair at the other side of her face behind her left ear. “I wanted to ask if you’d co with me on the Fuller case.”

“I thought Dulcy was going to do that.”

“She was. But what with her new condition and all… Anyway, the court date is set at the same time as her due date and I’d really hate to get all the way there and have no backup.”

Jena twisted her lips. “Depends.”

She gave a secret smile, remembering when Tommy had used the highly suggestive word on her earlier that morning, and her own puzzling response to it.

“On what?”

“On whether you’ll co with me on this case.”

“The Glendale case? The case of the wealthy socialite who whacks her husband and screams years of emotional abuse as the reason that’s in all the newspapers and smeared all over the television? Oh, no fair.”

Jena lifted a finger. “On the condition that there’ll be no more conversations like the one we just had questioning the client’s innocence.” She lowered her voice to a mutter. “And no comments like the one you just made.”

“But…”

“Uh-uh. Those are my terms. You want me to co on the whistle-blower Fuller case, you have to do the Glendale case.”

Marie made a comic face at her. “Oh, okay. Done.”

“Good.”

“You want to catch dinner tonight?” Marie asked, leaning against the desk.

Jena paused, then continued through the door. “Rain check. I already have other plans.”

“Ah. A guy.”

Jena smiled, thinking the word grossly inadequate. Tommy was a god. A king. The eighth wonder of the world. “Yes. A guy.”

IT HAD BEEN A LONG, long time since Jena had indulged in a genuine midnight snack. She, Dulcy and Marie used to make a habit of getting together at least one night a week to pig out on everything their little ole hearts desired and OD on old videos, but they’d stopped that a few months ago. She slowed her chewing, realizing that had happened just after Dulcy had met Quinn.

Is that what happened when women fell in love? Did everything else in their lives come a distant second within a blink of an eye?

The thought bothered her, but for only a moment. Because, right now, sitting across her kitchen table from Tommy in her old sweats, her muscles stretched, her skin refreshed from the brisk walk they’d given Caramel, for the first time she almost understood why Dulcy had stopped participating in their weekly get-togethers.

She slid her foot under the table to stick her toe under the hem of Tommy’s jeans, still hungry for him even though by all rights she should have had her fill. But when it came to Tommy…well, she was beginning to fear she’d never get enough of him. Caramel stopped her foot halfway there and she nudged the puppy out of the way.

“That pizza is two days old,” Tommy said, his brown eyes sexy, his hair tousled and reminding her how they had spent the past few hours. “How can you eat it?”

Jena distantly eyed the fruit he’d peeled and cut into precise pieces on a plate. “That fruit’s healthy. How can you eat that?”

She picked up the last of the nuked pizza, plucked a piece of pepperoni off the top, then leisurely stuffed the rest into her mouth, making loud sounds of enjoyment as she finished it off. Tommy swallowed hard as he watched her movements. Jena made sure to take extra care in sucking her fingers in a provocative way.

“So how’d it go today?” he asked, clearing his throat then putting two pieces of orange on her sauce-smeared plate.

Jena made a face as she fed some pepperoni to Caramel. “Where?” Was her voice a little raspy? “At work?”

“Didn’t you say you had to visit a client in jail?”

Jena’s shoulders instantly tensed. He would have to remind her of something she’d prefer not to think about just then. “Oh, that.”

“You know, that pepperoni isn’t going to help her, um, stomach problems any.” He looked at her. “It didn’t go well, I take it.”

“No, it went okay.” She moved the fruit out of the way to get at a gob of remaining cheese. “It’s just that…I don’t know. Do you ever feel like you know someone but have these awful flashes that you might not know them that well after all?”

“Never.”

She poked him with her cold toe. “I’m serious.”

“Sure. Everyone feels that way at one time or another, I guess.” He slid a peach slice into his mouth and made the same sounds of pleasure she had made moments before. Jena watched as peach juice dripped down the side of his mouth over his chin and felt her own mouth water. Oh, how she wished she were that peach.

“Do you know this client?”

“Know her?” She tugged her gaze from his decadent mouth. “No. Not very well anyway. I know of her. Her family is old society. The Glendales were friends of my parents.” Jena’s throat tightened at what she might have given away in the simple sentence. “Anyway, about four months ago Patsy Glendale murdered her husband. And I agreed to take on her case.”

“That’s the woman all over the news?”

“It reached L.A.?” Jena perked up a bit. She knew the case was high profile in Albuquerque. Had the national media picked up on it?

Tommy pointed toward the living room. “I caught a bit of the news earlier.”

Jena deflated. “Oh.”

His chuckle made her think of everything but Patsy Glendale and murder. “Don’t sound so disappointed.”

She shrugged, uncomfortable with having been found out. “It’s just that this case…it’s one of those make-you-or-break-you cases, you know? The kind that puts you on the front page of the local newspaper. Garners attention.” She wiped her hands on her napkin. “You can’t pay for that kind of PR. And seeing as Dulcy, Marie and I are still finding our footing…well, we can use all the PR we can get.”

“So murderers can beat a path to your door?”

“No, so high-paying clients can keep us out of the rain.”

She sat back and watched him cut another peach, putting a slice on her plate alongside the orange pieces she had yet to touch. “Did she do it?” he asked.

Jena was reminded of her conversation with Marie earlier. “Yes.”

She waited for his response. Only he didn’t indicate one way or another what he thought of her pronouncement. He merely continued peeling the peach then cutting it into easy, precise pieces. “Premeditated?”

“You’re up on your legal jargon.”

“I watched the Simpson trial like every other American.”

She cracked a smile. “No. Self-defense.”

“Intriguing.”

“Yes, I’d say that’s the word that definitely applies in this situation.” She didn’t catch herself putting fruit in her mouth until she was already chewing it. She paused, grudgingly finding it good. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had fruit. The only thing that came close to qualifying were the lemons she’d sucked on after shots of tequila at Dulcy’s bachelorette party. The night she met Tommy.

“My father used to cut fruit like that,” Jena said. Her eyes widened at the casual reference.

Tommy smiled. “Only child?”

“How’d you guess?”

“You have that only-child air about you. You know, confident, self-sufficient, a loner.”

“You mean selfish, greedy and arrogant.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, I did.”

He slowly chewed on a piece of peach and motioned toward the corner of the kitchen. Jena found Caramel had given up on the two of them and the hope of any more tasty tidbits and was circling around and around before finally plopping down on top of her dog bed with a long-suffering sigh.

“You know, she could do with a little discipline,” Tommy said.

Jena stared at him. “She just got back from three days at obedience school.”

“I said discipline. From you. Dogs like to know who’s in charge. And from what I can tell so far, she’s in control of you instead of the other way around.”

Jena made a face. “I’ll take your words under advisement.”

He chuckled. “You know, I always wondered what it would be like to be an only child,” Tommy said, drawing her gaze back to him. “I have four older sisters.”

“I always wondered what it would be like to have siblings. Brothers. Sisters. Didn’t matter.”

“Living hell.”

“Being an only child wasn’t exactly heaven on earth,” she said quietly. Especially when you lost both your parents at the same time and ended up alone.

“You said that in the past tense.”

She realized she had. She shrugged, trying to adopt an air of nonchalance. In truth, she hadn’t spoken about what had happened to her parents in so long, she’d forgotten the stories she used to come up with to explain their absence to strangers. Car accident. Plane crash. Anything that made the loss less painful, less real. Anything but the truth. Only Dulcy and Marie and a few others knew that. And not even they suspected that she needed to take on the Glendale case as a result of that truth. “Yeah. They died. A long time ago.”

“Aunts? Uncles? Cousins?”

“One aunt. She moved to Washington State a few years ago.” She shook her head to move her hair from her eyes. “You?”

“Both parents still alive and kicking. They live in the same house they bought thirty-five years ago. My four sisters are in various stages of engagement, marriage and divorce. All of them live within a mile of my parents in Minneapolis.”

“How did you end up in L.A.?”

“They matched my price.”

“Ah.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled in a way she found irresistibly sexy. “Yeah, ah.”

“Do you miss them? Your family, I mean.”

“Sometimes. But I try to get home at least once a month. I was just back there for Thanksgiving.”

“And the knee brace?”

He fell silent although his expression didn’t change. “Injury, eight weeks ago. It put me out of commission.”

“So you haven’t played since then?” Jena asked, her brows rising.

“Nope.”

She considered that. What would she do if something happened and she wasn’t able to be a lawyer for two months? “How do you feel about that?” she asked quietly.

His grin made her curl her toes against the kitchen tile. “Like picking you up and continuing a nonverbal conversation in the bedroom.”

Jena laughed. And it felt so good to do so that she continued doing it until she discovered that Tommy had stopped chuckling and was watching her through suspicious eyes.

“Careful or you’re liable to give a guy a complex.”

“A big jock like you?” Jena reached for her plate only to find she’d demolished the fruit he’d put on it. He held out another piece, but waved her hand away when she reached for it. She leaned forward and opened her mouth, waiting until he slowly put it inside. She drew her lips along the length, then took it full in along with his fingers. His gaze fastened on the movement, he slowly withdrew his hand. She took her time chewing, watching his face as he watched her. His eyes darkened. His jaw tensed. And a restless kind of energy seemed to emanate from him and reverberate off of her.

“A big jock like me still has an ego, you know,” he murmured, blinking up into her eyes.

“Trust me, baby, you don’t have a thing to worry about in that department.”

His grin was just this side of completely wicked. “I know.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re also bigheaded?”

“Depends on which head you’re talking about.”

She rolled her eyes to stare at the ceiling, but before she could make a jab about his adolescent remark, he was sweeping her off her feet and up into his arms. She automatically clung to his bare shoulders, feeling his broad, hard chest against her side.

“Now, how about I go and show you just how bigheaded I can be?”

“Sounds like an idea to me.”

## 4

TOMMY STRETCHED LANGUIDLY across the empty bed, aware of the morning light filtering through his closed eyelids. How long had it been since he’d slept in? Right after his injury bed rest had been the order of the day, but by six every morning he’d been wide-awake, cruising through the news channels and absorbing every word in the newspapers and medical journals while eating the breakfast the visiting nurse delivered.

Now Tommy squinted at the bedside clock, surprised to find it half past nine. He picked up a note propped against the lamp. “See you at five” was scrawled in barely legible letters along with a capital J. He put the note back down then joined his hands behind his head and grinned.

Coming to Albuquerque to see Jena had been his best idea yet. No Greek-American sports agent who spoke a million miles a minute knocking down his door. No physical therapists telling him what he was doing was all wrong for his knee. No team owner telling him via the coach that they needed him back on the ice now. No one but him and Jena and the sexual playground they’d made out of her ultra-modern apartment.

He glanced around, having gotten used to his surroundings remarkably quickly. His own place in L.A. was done in pale woods with wood-framed furniture covered in overstuffed brightly colored pillows and cushions, the walls dotted with framed old movie posters. Bogart was a favorite of his, as was Spencer Tracy. And, of course, you couldn’t go wrong with Paul Newman and Steve McQueen, although their posters were a little more recent. Growing up with the long winters in Minnesota, there seemed to be little more to do than go to the movies or play hockey. He’d preferred the matinees where they still showed the old films, while his sisters attended the new runs at night. And while he’d taken to hockey, Jamie, Sandie, Mandie and Lainie had trained as figure skaters.

He rubbed the stubble along his jaw and wondered what Jena had done at the same age.

He remembered her two friends from the bar. Childhood friends, Jena had said. The blonde—Dulcy, Jena had told him later—had looked like she’d needed some lightening up, while Marie…well, if he’d had a younger sister, he guessed she would have looked pretty much like her. Cute and hungry, appearing not to know what part of life to bite off first, and too scared to try.

But Jena… He couldn’t quite figure her out. Which was likely the reason he was so drawn to her. So many people he could pigeonhole in two minutes flat. But he’d spent the past four days with Jena and still didn’t have a clue what she was all about. A daring wildcat in bed, and remarkably bold during conversations, it wasn’t until much later that he’d realized she hadn’t revealed a bit of herself while she’d gotten him to tell her his life story.

Most guys probably wouldn’t question her behavior. Hell, they’d likely celebrate it. What man wouldn’t want a woman with apparently no past who wanted you and didn’t have an agenda when she jumped into bed with you?

She’d said her parents had died….

Tommy dry-washed his face with his hands. Had she mentioned how they had died? Or how old she’d been at the time? If she had, he couldn’t remember. He’d been too busy concentrating on her decadent mouth as she devoured first her pizza, then inadvertently inhaled the fruit he’d fed her. And, of course, he’d been busy answering the questions he was now afraid were meant to distract him.

He pushed up to sit, gingerly moving his leg over the side of the bed and doing a few stretches before standing on it. He checked the brace, then grabbed a pair of skivvies from his duffel before heading for the bathroom, intending to catch a shower before responding to the soft whining on the other side of the kitchen door. He had a good half hour before twelve-year-old Paula showed up to walk Caramel. Maybe he’d leave a note for her and see to the task himself. He could use exercise that didn’t include a mattress. And perhaps the cold morning air could help clear his conflicting thoughts as far as the dog’s mistress was concerned.

It didn’t sit well with him, knowing that while Jena shared herself with him completely on a physical plane, emotionally she was as much of a mystery as she’d been when he met her. Perhaps even more so, because he was sure her block wasn’t inadvertent but intentional. The mystery was fine for a one-night stand. The exchange of names wasn’t really necessary in those cases, much less the details of one’s childhood. But as the nights accumulated, no matter how much time separated the first from the second, their bond was deepening. Although, he suspected, not on an emotional level. Not for Jena.

And he didn’t think it wise to explore that avenue just yet. Not knowing what he did—or didn’t—about Jena.

As he stepped under the shower’s hot spray and began to soap up with her spicy soap he suspected didn’t come off a regular store shelf, he wondered about her personal life up until now. She was, what? Around the same age as him? Thirty or pretty near to that. Had she ever been married? Ever come close?

Of course, he hadn’t told her that he had been married once. Very briefly. Back when he was still young and stupid enough to mistake lust for love. It was his first year on the circuit and one of the rink groupies who followed the team to as many as the games as they could had targeted him in her crosshairs. His career had been going like gangbusters at the same time. The new up-and-comer with a bright future. Landing the cover of Sports Illustrated hadn’t hurt.

A month later they were married.

And a month after that he returned to their hotel room after a game in Toronto to find her in bed with one of the team’s longtime heroes.

He shut off the water and scrubbed himself with a thick, black towel. The strange thing of it was that neither his ex-wife nor his fellow team member had seemed particularly shocked that he had found them. Rather, they’d been surprised that he’d cared that his friend was boinking his wife.

She’d argued that certainly he’d known of her goal to bed every major hockey star in the western hemisphere, hadn’t he? The expensive rock on her finger hadn’t changed that. And it was all right with her if he slept with groupies, she’d told him. He would anyway once the honeymoon was over.

The only thing that was over at that moment was their marriage—if there really had been a marriage to begin with.

He’d pretty much accepted life as it came after that. And had never really met anyone he wanted more than a quick roll in the hay with. Until Jena, that is.

But it was important that he get to know her if this—whatever was happening between them—was to go any further. And he found he wanted that. Very much. Or else he would have left days ago.

The sound of the doorbell pealed through the apartment. Tommy slowed his movements and stared in the direction of the front door. Too early for Paula, but maybe she had something else on tap this morning and was getting an early start. Stepping out of the tub, he wrapped the towel around his midsection then strode to stare through the peephole. A deliveryman stood in the hall holding a package, about to ring the bell again.

“Yes?” he called.

He watched the man’s gaze fix on the peephole. “Delivery for a Tommy Brodie.”

Delivery? For him?

Damn, how had Kostas found him so quickly? He raked his fingers through his damp hair and unlocked and opened the door. As he signed for the package he heard footsteps on the staircase coming from upstairs. Paula bounded to a stop as Tom handed the deliveryman back his clipboard.

He waited until the guy started out before he told Paula, “I was thinking I’d look after the little mongrel today, give you a break.”

Jena had introduced him to the preteen the morning after his arrival and since then the red-haired girl with braces had stared at him as if he walked on water. He grimaced. Hell, he’d settle for walking without a limp right now.

“Okay, Mr. Wild…I mean, Brodie.”

Tommy grinned and handed her the money she would have made for the day’s activities, then went back inside the apartment and closed the door, package in hand.

The return address was local. He frowned and ripped open the end as he walked to the kitchen and opened the swinging door with his shoulder, letting out the ecstatic pup.

His brows rose high on his forehead as he got an eyeful of the box’s contents. A tux?

He stared at the monkey suit as if it might grow legs and challenge him to a choking match even as Caramel ran circles around his ankles, yipping up a storm.

Tommy shoved the suit back into the box, then ripped the envelope from the top.

“Formal Christmas party tonight,” Jena wrote, along with an address. “Meet me there at six.”

He took the suit out again and draped it over the back of a black leather chair, a slip of paper floating to the floor by his feet. He bent over and snatched it up. It wasn’t a rental. Jena had dumped good money by buying the damn thing.

Tommy absently rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension building there. When was the last time he’d worn a tux? It didn’t take him long to remember. He’d been nineteen at his oldest sister Jamie’s wedding. And he’d completely ruined the rental by pulling and plucking and generally setting out to destroy the confining suit of clothes before it destroyed him.